I Like To Win
by sweetprincipale
Summary: Set in season five, after Intervention. Joyce is gone, Glory's in town, the Buffy bot is dealt with and Dawn's in good hands. Imagine there's a weeknight where nothing major is happening- other than the usual horrors... Buffy is patrolling when she bumps into Spike. Short, sort of fluffy, sort of angsty, completely Spuffy. My first evet T-rated piece. Please be kind, read & review.
1. Chapter 1

I Like to Win

By Sweetprincipale

_Set in season five, after Intervention. Joyce is gone, Glory's in town, and the Buffy Bot is in Willow's custody, Dawn's in capable hands at night while Buffy patrols. Imagine there's a weeknight where nothing major is happening- other than the usual horrors..._

_Author's note: My first ever attempt at writing T-rated fiction. Please be kind. Short, sort of fluffy, sort of angsty- all of it completely Spuffy._

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. _

Part I

"You wanna stay on the ground a bit longer? You pretty up the place." Spike smirked down at the sprawled female on the damp grass.

"Oh goody. Sarcasm. Just what I need." Buffy sat up wearily, looking and feeling as limp as a wet rag, emotionally, physically, mentally drained. And now this._ Life just looooves me._

"Lemme help-"

"Don't touch me! There will be no touching!" Buffy glared and pulled herself to her feet with a poisonous look at Spike. "I am _fine_." Which was a really big lie. Buffy silently hoped saving lots of lives excused lies. Lies to evil, undead, jerks probably didn't need excuses, anyway.

"Well, bully for you." Spike gave her a cool glance and hitched his brown paper bag higher into his arms. "I saw you dust the newbie and not get back up. Figured the least I could do was see if you're were knocked out."

"Why? So you can chain me up again?" Buffy said brightly, a sinisterly sweet, 'you so don't want to mess with me' smile on her face.

Spike looked genuinely hurt for a split second. Then the cockiness was back. "No, I got the impression you'd want to be awake if we played those kinds of games."

"Oh, that does it-" Buffy pulled out her stake and lunged. Spike sidestepped- badly. _Right. He's injured guy. Injured as in tortured. For hours. Because he wouldn't tell Glory what we're hiding. Yay. Guilt now._

Spike didn't know who was more surprised, him or her, when they ended up together, chest to chest, her catching him, stake dropped to the ground.

It killed him. To be this close. And she'd kissed him. A real kiss, just a few days ago. A kiss she wanted to give him, chaste, soft, but thank him for his self-sacrifice. Even after all he'd done, she still thanked him. Made him melt even more than he already was.

_Oh, dangerous places, dangerous places and bad thoughts._ Buffy felt their heads brush, and his cool, slightly bruised cheek against her skin. She pushed him upright none too gently. "Maybe you shouldn't wear the huge boots if you can't walk in them." She snapped and juggled his paper bag back to him. It clinked and they both made a grab for it, to steady it. Hands touched and pulled apart as if stung. Spike clutched the bag and sneered.

"Maybe if you'd tidy up a bit after your slaying." He groused. "Open graves all over the bloody place. Anyone could fall. Get hurt." He sighed furiously at himself as he blurted, " I was only checkin' to make sure you were alright, Slayer."

She swallowed an angry retort. There wasn't enough energy to be angry and stay upright and keep moving, act like her world wasn't hanging in pieces. Maybe that's all he'd wanted to see. When he wasn't being a total bastard, she could believe it. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for the- the catch." He straightened up and they managed a weak grin.

"So." Buffy tried to think of something to say. _What does one say after one's sister is saved by evil villain guy at great pain and injury to said villain? _"What's in the bag?" _Why don't I ever just say 'goodnight', like a normal person? Oh right. Not a normal person._

Spike blinked. "Dinner an' dessert." He tilted it towards her so she could peek over the edge. Blood in bags and a large bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Ah. Um. Yum."

Spike's dark eyebrows raised almost off his purchases were usually met with disinterest, disdain, or disgust. "Yum" did not fit the pattern at all. "You alright, Luv?"

She laughed. Once. Twice. Then she couldn't stop. Hysteria had set in. Everyone said the stress would get to her. Slaying was bad enough, throw in a majorly yucky break up and the death of your mother and the hunting of your sister? Just ask the loony bin to send the butterfly net guys over now. "Oh God. I'm so not alright. No way will I ever be alright again." The laughing was spasmodic, tapering and then swelling again as Spike watched in a blend of horror and sympathy. "Here's the mental breakdown, Spike." She laughed so hard that it came out as a hiccup, a wet sounding one as tears collected in the back of her throat. "Why can't I ever fall apart someplace really nice like a spa or maybe the beach?"

"Want me to drive you to the beach?" Spike asked in a puzzled, concerned tone that only made the laughter and tears start merging together. "I could." He offered, a hesitant hand going for her shoulder.

"You're being nice to me. That's it. My life is officially no longer_ my _life. I am stuck in a really bad nightmare and I can't wake up." Wet, wide eyes turned to him and she shook her head as he opened his mouth to offer something comforting, something reassuring. "No. No. Don't say anything unless you can either make me wake up or stay asleep until all this is over."

Sod that. He'd never been able to keep quiet, and being told to keep quiet was like pulling the trigger on his vocal cords. "Sorry, Pet. Never gonna happen as long as you're you." She punched him lightly on the side and he winced. That side was missing quite a bit of skin and probably some muscle as well. Glory liked to play rough with her captive pieces of meat.

The wince was one more straw on an overloaded camel. "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Buffy was looping, back to a different form of hysterics now, the tearful type, the remorseful type where everything in the world is your fault. Even vampires. Vampires were her fault, because if there weren't vampire slayers, there wouldn't be vampires, right?

"No, no, no." Spike soothed. "We don't do this. You don't do this."

"What?" Her eyes stopped leaking and sparked angrily. "I don't get to complain or feel sorry, or feel like my world is screwed up?"

"Yes, of course you do." Spike looked around anxiously, then sighed. Sobbing and laughing like one of the loonies Glory made. Probably attract a whole horde of scabby little minions."But not out here, like this. Come on. I know what'll make you feel better."

Buffy hesitated, watching him move, like a cat watching a particularly wily mouse. "What do you think you can_ possibly_ do to make me feel better?" She asked with more contempt than she really felt. Right now, almost anything had to make her feel better, because she felt like crap, and the list of things that could potentially make her feel worse was incredibly small in comparison.

A flicker of his own anger flared up, but it was quickly extinguished by the hidden hope in her eyes. She really did want to feel better. Even if it wasn't real, even if it was just a little respite from the pain, even for a second or two. He could handle that. "Well, Slayer-" his hand emerged from the brown paper bag triumphantly, the bottle of whiskey held out to her. "I can _share._" One eyebrow arched smoothly. "You in?"

The smile snuck onto her face, as if shy and nervous to be seen. "I'm in."

* * *

They'd only had two shots each, a drip on a nickel for him, a bellyful for her- until her slayer strength absorbed it. He was pacing them, slow sips, not saying much, sizing each other up it seemed. "You wanna talk?" He finally asked.

"About what?" A huffed out laugh. "How bad my life is right now?"

"Sure. I'll play you."

"Yeah, right. I know your tricks now." She muttered into the last sip of her second shot.

"Not play like that, you twit." Spike offered to pour her another and she nodded. "Play a game. Drown the sorrows. One shot between us." He took her glass and she let out a yelp of annoyance. "Whoever has the biggest sorrow gets the drink."

"I'm so going to win." Buffy whispered grimly, and sat up straighter, no longer leaning against the base of his armchair as they sat on the floor of his crypt.

"Not bloody likely." He didn't actually care if she beat him all to pieces. Not in this manner anyway, this was the least painful exchange he'd had with her in ages. Liquor was cheap anyway, compared to letting her get some relief, someone to talk to, someone she didn't have to play hero for. "Start small."

"Okay..." Buffy thought about the little things, all of which seemed so insignificant in her life lately. Usually, thinking about the little day to day things seemed overwhelming, piled upon all the huge things. Except right now, when it was okay to talk about them. Be a total bitchy bitch in a bitch session. A rueful smile leapt to her lips. "Dawn is alllllllllways taking my clothes without asking. It's so annoying, it drives me up the wall."

Spike snorted out a laugh. "Uh yeah. Annoying, sure. A hell goddess ripped up one of the FOUR shirts I own. Twenty five percent of my wardrobe is destroyed." He reached for the glass.

Buffy smacked his wrist and deflected his hand. "Let's talk how many outfits I've had ruined through blood, tearing, ripping, sliming, snotting, spewing, stabbing, grass stains, mud stains, and other nameless goo. I can't count that high." She reached for the glass herself. Spike lightly pushed her fingers back.

"That's not some big shocker, Luv. Math isn't your strong point. You want to talk wardrobe issues? I've been around for over a century." He started ticking off on his fingers as he listed, "Clothes I was turned in, blood- soaked. Clothes I was buried in- full of dirt. Been mobbed, gassed, set on fire, captured by Nazis, bled on, gored, hung, tortured-"

"Whoa, back up. Nazis? As in the only human people I ever really wanted to kill?"

"Yeah, not too keen on 'em myself." Spike's hand reached over hers as he continued. "Let's not even count the number of times Dru got impatient an' ripped somethin' of mine straight off of my-"

"Ack! No, no. That doesn't count- and _really _doesn't need to be shared." Buffy winced. _Partly because I don't want to think about ripping clothes off of him. Because I could see that happening. Not with _me,_ maybe, but... he is sorta- muscle-y. And sexy. You know it's bad when a guy looks good to you even when he's bruised up and still has a little bit of leftover puffy eye going on._

"Now hang on, why doesn't that count?" He demanded irritably.

"Because it was your girlfriend acting out the cover of a trashy romance novel. Romance stuff doesn't tip the scales in the bad day game." Buffy crossed her arms and dared him to argue.

"Fine. Let's talk bad romance then." He sneered.

"Why? You want to lose super fast?" Buffy put her hands on her hips. Some spark was coming back now, and she hadn't even realized it. All the pain wasn't being drunk off, it was being talked out, with a snark and a snide remark- but it was going. "Let's see- Angel. Big love. First love. First time. Slept with him, soul gone- demon wearing my boyfriend's face is back- in my face. With psycho issues." She swallowed. "Can't top that." Her hand shook and she was shocked when Spike's closed around it. Not just to fend her off from the drink, but just- holding it.

"Okay. I'll top it. Cecily. First love. Loved her- for years. From a distance. I got up the courage to tell her, I wrote her a- I wrote her. Some bully at a party took my words, made them a public spectacle, humiliated me in front of her. I tried to explain- she told me she could never love a man like me." He winced. "An' I was a good man. Back then." Buffy's eyes widened, then slitted.

"You still don't win." But she was moved.

"I'm not done. I stumbled out of her house, took the wrong way home, an' met- met my real true love. My wicked, black swan, with her glowing eyes, her- effulgence." His head dipped at the memory of the rush, the feel of her hands, her teeth, knowing passion for the first time, and then knowing a woman for the first time, a demon in an angel's body, writhing around him, showing him a whole cosmos in a soft hiss and a silken whisper. "I loved her like I didn't know you could love anything. Like she was my cup of life an' she was lettin' me drink from her." Eyes turned from blue to black with pupil-dilating lust. Drink from each other they did, wrapped together in long ebony locks and silk sheets.

Buffy felt herself burn just a little too much under those dark eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol or the sexual imagery of her own gutter brain, but she felt some of that life force pounding into her through his words. Her lips dried and she moistened them. "That doesn't sound so bad." She finally managed to croak.

Dark, bitter chuckling, ending with a snap of teeth as he eyed her, brows drawn together, heavy lidded eyes, not really looking at her, but looking back, seeing bad days. "Wait for it. A century of devotion. In sickness and health, better or worse... not even death did us part, brought us together instead." He sighed, twisted his head and now his eyes regarded her. "An' then we come to Sunnyhell." The snide tone was back, replacing the awestruck wonder of a second ago. "Your honey loses his soul, thanks to you, an' he takes my Dru from me. Oh, I'm still kickin' about, I'm in a wheelchair- again, thanks to you, but Dru walks through me like a shadow to get to her sire, her precious _Angelus._ He was her first, you see." He saw the pain bloom in her eyes, but his own pain was masking his concern for the moment. He twisted the knife. "Not that she was willing, mind you. She was a good girl, from a Catholic family- which your boy slaughtered ruthlessly in front of her. She was going to become a nun, devote herself to serving the Lord. But still- you never forget your first time, do you?"

Remains of Buffy's meager dinner tried to come up with the burning alcohol. "Shut up, Spike." Ice in every word.

"I'll skip ahead, shall I?" He felt his own guts twist, useless though they were to him. "A century of my love, and she tosses it away to shag the man who we'd come to hate. I save her from his crazy-arsed plan to suck the world into hell- and she leaves me for a slimy, antlered, cloven hooved demon. Decades of my love- tossed aside. My eternity- gone." This time he made no move to retrieve the prize, just sat, flexing his hands on his knees.

Buffy's voice was soft. "Willow changed him back. Right as the portal began to open. He was mine again. He'd missed me. He couldn't remember. He looked in my eyes, and trusted me to make it better." She bit her lip. "It was too late. It was him- or the world. So I kissed him. And I said I loved him. Because I did. Because I do. And then I killed him."

When she looked up, his eyes were shining, not with malice, something else, something he didn't let her see. He picked up the bottle and filled the second glass. "It's a tie."

It was a sad mockery of victory. Feeble clinks of glasses. Then needy swallows.

"Guess my game didn't work too well, Luv."

Buffy paused. Her hand tightened on the neck of the bottle before he could even blink and she filled her glass again and sat it back in the middle with a shrug. "It's okay. That was just the first round."

_Second Round, coming soon..._


	2. Chapter 2

I Like to Win

By Sweetprincipale

_Set in season five, after Intervention. Joyce is gone, Glory's in town, and the Buffy Bot is in Willow's custody, Dawn's in capable hands at night while Buffy patrols. Imagine there's a weeknight where nothing major is happening- other than the usual horrors..._

_Author's note: My first ever attempt at writing T-rated fiction. Please be kind. Short, sort of fluffy, sort of angsty- all of it completely Spuffy._

_Dedicated to Alexiarrose, Mike13z50, Dlillith21, McPastey, Omslagspapper, and Ginar369_

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. _

Part II

"Pick a new topic, okay?" Buffy stared at the ceiling.

"Please, Pet, ladies' choice." He winked.

"Fine. Wanna talk bad stuff? Annoying stuff? There's a hell beastie in town and she wants my little sister."

"She also wanted me. An' she got hold of me." Spike lifted his shirt enough to show holes, gouges, bruises, and breaks. "I call easy victory on account of being _actually_ tortured by the bitch, not just being a target."

"Foul! Foul on account of you building a- a- Buffy Bot that smoochied all over you so that the hell bitch thought you were the Key! You brought that on yourself." Buffy was indignant.

"Hey! That's not all my fault. A man in love will do anything to-"

"Do not finish that sentence. Don't even finish _thinking_ it." Buffy ordered, glaring menacingly.

"Then it's a draw. No one wins."

"Then let me beef up the bad. Bitch queen of the hell dimension sends things to attack me and my family. Queller demon worm thingy, little leprous hobbits, and brain suckers." Buffy shuddered.

"I fought that wormy one with you, an' a few minions as well. If you drink, I get half."

"Minions you brought on yourself, Spike, see Buffy Bot comment." She cut off her game partner with a flash of fire in her eyes. He meekly shut his mouth. Buffy took this as proof that alcohol was working. "As for the Queller, you fought it with me because you were being stalker boy in my basement." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Not a sip."

"Fine." His eyes narrowed. "I'll see your 'stalker boy' an' throw in the reminder that I have to sneak into the place where my only actual friends are. _Were._" _One of them is gone now._

"What? There're more icky demons hiding in my house?" Buffy looked horrified. "That does it. I'm calling the bug guy and asking if he has a Hellmouth special."

"No, not demons. Dawn. Your mum." He almost added "you", but decided not to risk it.

"You're not friends with them. You _use_ them." Buffy suddenly looked dangerously close to the boiling point.

"You know, you might think everything in the world is about you, but you're not right. Your sis is funny and smart and not too bloody full of herself. And your mother-"

"My mother is_ dead _!" Buffy spat. Something inside cracked. Hearing it fly from her mouth. So harsh. So unmitigatedly real. "My mom. Is gone."

She didn't even know how it happened, if she cracked first and he came to comfort her, or she came to be comforted as she cracked. She was bunched up against him crying though, and repeating the horrible words. "Gone. Gone. Gone, Spike, just- not here. And I need her. I need her right now! What am I supposed to-? Spike, I can't do this. I _need _my mom."

"Shhh. Shh, Luv, I know. I wish I could bring her back." _We tried. Bit and I tried..._

No one else knew how to talk to her about her mother's death. They said nothing or said meaningless comforting things, or in Dawn's case, yelled, freaked on her, acted like she didn't care, when in reality, she cared so much every moment she moved was an attempt to escape the tears. Not Spike. He wasn't trying to say the 'right thing', which was more often than not the 'ineffective thing'. Spike said whatever he wanted to. Mostly annoying. Usually honest. Sometimes honesty was just - perfect.

And the nice thing about being with someone who said whatever he wanted was that you got the free pass to say what you wanted, too. The hurt lessened, the more she was able to break down, sound like the scared, miserable girl she was instead of the hero she was supposed to be.

"I loved her. So much." Buffy let her head rest on her knees.

"She was amazing. She was so lovely. Just- just a real lady, you know?" Spike stroked her hair, wondering if it was bad to feel so pained and so aroused at once. Probably. Which made sense, him bein' evil an' all. "Funny when she wanted to be. See where you get the banter from."

"You only met my mom a handful of times." Buffy protested.

"Not only. Saw her more often in town."

"What?'

"An' with Bit."

"What?"

"Plus when she was sick, sometimes I used to pop in. We watched the same soap, y'know."

"_What?_ That was a 'what' of epic proportions, and why aren't you answering!"

"What'm I s'posed to say?" Spike murmured after a second, the enraged girl going from a huddle in his arm to a stiff -spined interrogator and then back. "How much I liked Joyce? Want me to tell you that when she trusted me I felt good inside, even though I know you won't believe me?"

"She did trust you." Buffy shook her head at her mother's folly. But yet- sometimes she trusted him, too.

"Yeah. Made me fell almost as good as when you- never mind. You don't like when I think nice things about you."

"Yes, I do." She looked up at him, blinking in confusion. "Just not dirty nice things."

"_Dirty nice_, hm? New term for my Slayer-to-English dictionary." He teased.

"Just finish talking about my mom, okay?" She gulped down another brick wall in her throat, sent it back to her heart where it was supposed to be standing guard. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. She had time to listen to people's problems, even when she had her own. She was lonely a lot. She was brave. An' your boy wouldn't even let me give you the flowers I had for her." Spike hadn't meant to bring that up right now, but thinking about the lovely woman he'd only just gotten to know, and then to have her ripped away, so unfairly, even in the already unfair world with it's stacked decks- and he couldn't even present a little remembrance. His eyes yellowed. "I hate that boy."

"What- Xander?" Buffy blinked in confusion. "You had flowers?"

"For her- well, they're on the grave now. Different bunch. I left the others on your lawn." He looked away, making the amber orbs revert to blue before the demon emerged all the way.

"I never even noticed. He didn't tell me."

"No, he wouldn't, would he? He likes to protect you where he can, that one." Spike scoffed angrily.

"Hey!" Buffy sat up and pulled away, pleasant comforting session going to seed. "He had good reason to think you might not be welcome company, okay?"

He seethed. "It wasn't about _you_. It was about _her_."

Buffy scooted farther away. Spike might be harmless, but he sounded mad in a different kind of way, a certain pained anger she didn't recognize. "I-"

"Doesn't matter. I go see her at night sometimes. Leave her flowers. Tell her how much she's missed." _Tell her I'm watching your ungrateful back, you bint._

After a moment of quiet, Buffy reached for the bottle and filled the second glass. "To Mom?" She offered him one and raised the other.

"To Joyce." He agreed. "One hell of a woman."

"The best."

They drank, swallowed, and stared at each other again.

"What's this count as?"

"A draw?" He suggested.

Buffy nodded, then smiled into her empty hands. "Is it just me, or do you suck at this game?"

"I should've known not to play against such a miserable person." He sighed self-pityingly, mockery in his eyes. "Still. There's about 17 shots in a bottle. We have a few rounds left to play."

"You're never going to beat me at this game. Not right now. Not with my life." Buffy warned, a morbid pride replacing the usual pain she felt.

"Oh really? I had Harmony." Spike gave her a withering glare.

Buffy winced and almost conceded victory on the spot. But then- "Riley."

"Damn." He'd hoped she wouldn't count him on the bad list.

"Harmony was pretty." Buffy knocked holes in his game. "If you like pretty, curvy, blonde airheads who are psychos."

"Your soldier boy wasn't bad. If you like them oddly bulgy, tall, and steroid laced." He countered.

"He left me. He cheated on me with vampire whores." Buffy took a mock bow, bending from the waist as she sat on the cold floor. "Oh yes. Even normal guys get the hellmouth-y vibe. Like to see you top that."

Spike smiled with the easy confidence of a man who has several aces in his sleeve. "Two words. Blondie. Bear."

"Oh God..." The wince was bordering on seizure status.

"Plus- dumb as a brick, couldn't stop talking, but had nothing to say." He rubbed his temple with a wince of his own. "On an' on an on'..."

"Okay, repulsive and stuff, but-" Buffy pointed out one undeniable truth, "she really, really liked you how you were. She thought you were the best thing ever in the boyfriend line."

"So did yours. I know he did. He told me how much he loved you." Spike admitted softly, looking at her from the corner of his downcast eyes. _An' he knew just how much I loved you. Bet you he never told you that. What's it matter? You wouldn't have believed him anyway._

Buffy didn't even want to take the time to think about that. About Riley pouring out his heart to Spike. The world was already in pieces, she would just accept some of them were now going to be completely random ones from different puzzles. "He loved me- on _his_ terms. Harmony loved you. Period."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh let's not lie, or no one'll ever win this thing. She never loved me. I never loved her, either." He fumbled in his pocket for a minute and brought forth his lighter and menthols. "Wanna?"

"No thanks. Being drunk is bad enough. And I'm really not liking cancer causing things right now." She was surprised when he nodded, looked at his Zippo, and then put everything back in his pocket.

"You're not drunk, Slayer. You'd need a lot more, especially all worked up."

"Huh?"

He smiled. No wonder she'd come to him for lessons. She didn't even know how her body worked. Oh, bloody sweet torture, wouldn't he love to show her some of the bells and whistles for the very first time? Mmm. But no. Focus on the present situation. "Slayer metabolism. You're burning the alcohol through you at two or three times the normal rate, an' you're also pumpin' pretty fast."

"I'm what?" Buffy's eyes widened and she scooted away.

"Blood. Pumping through your heart. Going fast." He spoke slowly and carefully as if explaining to a brain addled child. "I can hear it. You're upset. You'll need more than a handful of shots to make you anything besides nicely buzzed, Pet."

"Oh. Okay." Her blush came and faded. "Riley loved me. I never loved him. I don't know who wins that contest."

Spike considered, and then put on his best sad puppy face. "I can never walk in the glorious sunlight." He pressed a histrionic hand to his chest.

"Oh boo hoo. Duh. You're a _vampire. _ _I _never get to shop."

"Oh boo hoo. Duh. _Slayer._ Hazard of the gig. _I_ can't go on tropical vacations. Or any vacations, really."

"Neither can I! Oh. I'm fated to die young. Ultimate tragedy." When she said it like that, so flippantly, it wasn't such a big shadowy scary in the corner. Wasn't good- but it was out there.

"Already done it." He crossed his arms and sucked in his cheeks with a smarmy, self-congratulatory grin.

_Ooh, he has cheekbones you can slice marble on... No, no appreciating the physical, beat him at this game. _"Damn. Okay, wait, I _did_ die! Once."

"Me, too! As we've established - vampire."

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah, an' you were dead for what- five minutes or less? I'm STILL dead."

"But you're the up and moving around dead. I'd be dead in a box dead."

"I'm a VAMPIRE." He said in exasperation. "I'm deader than you, no matter what I'm doin'."

"Being the undead cannot be your cop out, Spike."

"Well- fine. Neither can being a Slayer."

"Fine."

The two stared at each other moodily. "Oh. I know." Buffy hovered her hand over the glass in pre-triumph. "I feel guilt, pain, sadness, all those human emotions and oh man, do they suck. And you can't get rid of them." Buffy blinked at the amber liquid. "Just take them out for a little paddle in the booze. But they come back."

Spike watched her drifting away inside her sadness. "I feel those things, too. You think just because you're a human, you can feel more?"

"I have a soul. I'm pretty sure I feel more." She raised one smooth brow.

"Maybe you can. Maybe you feel a wider range. But not any more deeply." He whispered.

"You think you can know how I-"

He continued. "Maybe not about the same things. Although- maybe some of the same."

"Not about Drusilla and Angel again, please, Spike. I like to rotate my misery." Buffy closed her eyes wearily.

"Not about the lovers. About mothers. You miss your mum, I miss mine."

Buffy shook her head. "No comparison, Spike. My mom- it was too soon. Okay? And sudden, and awful. It wasn't like she lived to a nice old age and passed away."

"Yes, Joyce's death was all you say, Luv. But my mum wasn't so different. She died in her early fifties. About ten years later than your mum, that's all." Buffy's mouth snapped shut. "Still too damn soon."

"Agreed." Buffy tucked her hands back in her lap, watching him, thinking about herself. "It's horrible. Especially if you- if there's nothing you can do." The 911 operator, the paramedics, the doctor, all telling her that it was probably already too late. That CPR wouldn't have worked anyway. Everyone else telling her that superheroes can't fight everything._ But me knowing I should be able to. Doing something about things no one else can handle is my thing. Except this one time, when I really wish I could have saved someone..._

"Mhm." Spike made a small noise of accordance. "It's worse if you tried. You tried- an' killed her by mistake."

"What?" Buffy looked horrified. "I didn't! Her- her ribs broke, but she was gone anyway." Her lips crumpled down. "I didn't mean to push so hard..."

"Oh, Slayer, Luv, not you." He thought about moving to her side, but decided to commiserate in words, not deeds this time. "Me. _My_ mum. She was dyin'. I tried to save her. Made a mistake. She died anyway. My fault. She might have had a year or two more if I hadn't- if I hadn't." No need to tell her the gory details, let her see his stupidity. Though it might be used in a tie break situation.

"At least you tried." Buffy murmured.

"Hey. You tried too. Sometimes there's nothing you can do."

"I hate that." Her melancholy look was one replaced by a snarl of genuine poison.

"Me, too."

"So." She looked into his eyes, running riot with emotions, all those emotions, done in different shades of blue. Her voice shook as she tried to reduce enough pain to last a lifetime down to one little question. "Is it worse if they die without you being there to help- or if they die because you're trying to do the right thing and you mess up?"

"I don't know." He really didn't. They two types of guilt must be overwhelming, but they were evenly matched. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think there's nothing worse than losing your mum, and the circumstances just twist the knife in different ways."

"Another tie?"

"No. No ties. No wins." He suddenly decided. "This topic isn't a competition. Can't compare one loss to another. Not these losses."

She felt confused. They were supposed to be competing. That's what made it easier to talk about. You had to say what hurt. If you said what hurt, and you hurt the most- you won. Just for a minute. It wasn't the alcohol that was the prize, though. It was the burden halved, even for just a minute. "What is it, then?"

He shrugged. "Sharing the grief?"

"You did say you were willing to share." Buffy gestured to the bottle that was slowly emptying. "No one drinks then."

"Can if you want." He didn't care. If it helped, she could take the whole damn thing and chug it.

"That's okay. I like to play fair." She winked, a sad mockery of her normal sparkle trapped in misty eyes.

"You're playin' the wrong man." Spike let out a hollow laugh.

"I know. But I'm still going to win this game." She smiled at him as their eyes met.

He smiled in return. "We'll see. Start the next round."

_Third and Final Round, up next._


	3. Chapter 3

I Like to Win

By Sweetprincipale

_Set in season five, after Intervention. Joyce is gone, Glory's in town, and the Buffy Bot is in Willow's custody, Dawn's in capable hands at night while Buffy patrols. Imagine there's a weeknight where nothing major is happening- other than the usual horrors..._

_Author's note: My first ever attempt at writing T-rated fiction. Please be kind. The fluff is gone, it's serious time. Wordy, but that's me. I have problems shutting up. Still Spuffy though. ;)_

_Dedicated to Alexiarrose, Mike13z50, Dlillith21, NausicA, Illusera, teddybear-514, McPastey, cavemenftw, and Ginar369_

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. _

Part III

Round three was slow to start. Both of them sat smiling hesitantly or scowling at thoughts they were keeping silent, a lazy, lulling moment. Until the call of the whiskey seemed too great and the desire to win got the better of them. Or more likely, in Buffy's mind, the silence seemed too comfortable. Being with him felt too comfortable. Comfortable was good, but _too_ comfortable led to danger, mistakes, bad places.

Buffy cracked first, blurting."I've been an only child my whole life and then suddenly monk guys are invading the brains of everyone I know, snipping off my essence or aura or something, and I get a little sister who's in my way, tattling on me, stealing Mom, stealing my friends, making me worry, totally being 'the good one'... And I love her." Buffy went from annoyed to grim as she realized afresh that no matter what the circumstances were, how Dawn came to "exist" in her life, or how she acted, she was her sister, through and through. She would always love Dawn. But- the things that came with her? Not so much.

Spike cocked his head and then began, "That doesn't sound too-"

Buffy cut him off as she summed up the situation. "My really annoying sister, who I love, don't get me wrong, is actually some kind of primordial artifact wanted by an immortal psycho." Her eyes dared him to compete.

He loved taking dares. "Bit might be annoying, but she worships you, wants your love, an' loves you back. She's made up from you, right? So where'd the annoying come from? As someone said earlier," he smirked maliciously, " 'you brought that on yourself' ".

"I did not!" She cried petulantly. "Monks did it."

"Oh, the blame game." Spike sighed dramatically. "How the Slayer has fallen."

"Spike!"

"Fine. Problematic or not, you have someone who loves you and looks up to you. You have someone who's got this unbreakable bond with you. Family. I got no one."

"Well- I know we said we wouldn't keep using this, but you're a vampire from a billion years ago."

"Oi!"

"Okay, okay, a hundred years ago. Your family wouldn't be around now, anyway." She said gently, a puzzled frown coming over her face. "Which, as I'm saying it, still really sucks."

"Then give me double points. I've always been alone. I'm the only one my parents had that survived past infancy." Spike shrugged. "They say you can't miss what you never have." He looked into those green and gold flecked eyes. _Never really had her... Funny how my heart doesn't like cliches... _"Bollocks. You can miss it plenty."

"Geez." Buffy didn't know what she was feeling, empathy or sympathy or just- weirdness, finding out so much about Spike, like he was a person. Not just a person- shaped thing. _How can he remember so much of his life, how can he miss it, his mom, the family he never got to have? I thought vampires were all "kill, maim, kill, plot to make my life miserable, kill". Weird. I thought they had the human memories- but not the feelings that went with them. Or maybe only _Spike_ has both. Even Angel didn't talk about his human life like this, and he had a soul. Maybe that's why he's good at hanging out with me when he tries to be. Human stuff isn't lost to him. Wow. Bigger weird._

Buffy sat, not saying anything. Spike waited for her to challenge his last sad story. When moments passed and she didn't, he figured he'd scored a deciding point. "Yeah. Suck on_ that, _Slayer." He growled low in triumph and began to shift to reach his prize.

Buffy came back to reality with a startled thud. "I will not!" Buffy looked horrified. She noticed Spike looked confused, then lecherous. _Apparently I misinterpreted that in the most wrong way possible. Go me. Maybe we can factor in how many humiliating moments I've had tonight and I'll not only win a drink but some other lovely parting gifts._

"Where was_ your_ brain, Missy?" Spike smirked at her sudden blush and embarrassed eyes.

"Shut up. Who says- who uses that- what you just said?" She demanded, ending in a rush, flushing furiously.

"I dunno. Seemed- _natural._" He rolled the word around his mouth and let it slip out sinfully, slowly. "Just a reflex."

_Oooh, how's he do that with his mouth? _The words seemed to drip out, roll off. Buffy visibly slumped forward to follow the invisible pattern of the sound escaping. He leaned forward as well,looking at her mildly dazed eyes, closer, closer, nose to nose-

"Ow!"

"Bloody hell!" Foreheads collided. _Two beings with enhanced coordination and what do we get? Concussed._

"You were trying to kiss me!" Buffy yelped.

"Was not! Wanted to look into your eyes, see how squiffy you actually are." He defensively crossed his arms.

"I'm pretty damn spiffy! Okay- not so much right now, kinda- wobbly and stuff, but- but _you're_ the one who can't hold your liquor. You're starting to slur."

"Squiffy means drunk, you little idiot." Spike shrugged himself away from her. Why did he want to kiss her? Why couldn't he_ stop _wanting to kiss her? In love or not, she was so... irritating. "You're sober enough. Go on, take your turn if you wanna keep playin'."

Right the game. Focus on the game. _But which one_, her inner voice taunted. _Aren't you playing two games here tonight?_

"Parents. Divorce. Dad. Never around anymore. And so help me if you say your parents were divorced, I'll stake your tongue, because- because divorce was like, illegal or something, way back in whenever you lived."

"No, you're right. Divorce was unheard of. My dear old father went to help quell a colonial uprising in India and was never heard from again. His entire regiment was slaughtered, so we assumed... Ah well. I was only six at the time."

Buffy gaped. _Poor little boy, growing up without a dad...Okay so it's Spike. He wasn't Spike back then. He was a little boy named William, and he had no brothers and sisters to play with and his mother died when he was only a little older than me. _"Wow."

"Sad, init?"

"Yeah. Wow."

"So. Do I win? Worst life ever?"

She considered. If she was being charitable, if she was being nice, she'd have said yes, just because it was so sad, and she really wasn't in love with drinking little shots of smelly, burny stuff. But it was Spike in front of her and that lost little boy vanished when she looked at the smirking jerk. Nice was something you had to work up to and that required more energy than she had. It was _Spike_. She always had to win where he was concerned. If she didn't, she wasn't a good slayer. _A good slayer wouldn't be here at all,_ the little voice taunted again. _Well, fine. I'm not a good slayer. Whatever. But I'm a smart slayer, at least with this vamp. I know how to play him, I know how to get away clean. Or at least, not _too_ badly hurt..._

Buffy's sympathetic face was replaced by one of cool deliberation. "I just realized you have an unfair advantage. You've been alive- well- on earth, so much longer than I have. You've had more time for bad stuff to happen. So- this isn't fair."

"Then you should have said something before we started to play. I thought good guys didn't try to- why are you laughing like that? You're not about to start ravin' an' sobbin' too, are you?" Spike watched Buffy's face twitch suddenly, lose the calm look she'd just been sporting, and then fade completely. Next a muffled snort escaped and then a full blown laughing session began.

She shook her head, realization overwhelming her, undoing all the strings of the mask she'd been wearing. Spike wasn't the only one who had mega unfairness. She explained as best she could in her jumbled state. "No. No, it's just, Spike- guess what? I've had a century of suckage in _twenty _years. Do you realize that? We keep tying, or almost tying, every bad thing you say, I have an equally bad thing or vice versa. Worst lives ever. Both of us." She slid down from her sitting position to a lying one, on her side, arms around herself as she laughter was gasping, helpless laughter. "It's not funny, but I'm cracking up" laughter. "Ohh. Oh, shit, Spike." She rolled her lolling head to look into his concerned, somewhat amused eyes. "We're never going to beat one another." _Do slayers ever really win? We win big battles, save the world, save people? But then we die, and we're not there to enjoy the world we saved or the people we loved._ "Never going to beat each other..." She repeated, laughing once more.

"No. That's right." He knew it was stupid and dangerous, but maybe she was seeing it. Just maybe, when she was relaxed like this, she could listen to him like he was a friend, someone who wanted to be there for her, not like an old enemy playing a game. He eased to his side as well and reached for her face, gentle, hesitant fingers going for the cheek that encased the smile he'd fallen in love with. "Not supposed to beat each other anymore, 'cause I wanna help you. I wanna be with you, 'cause I lo-"

She rolled away, disgust on every line of her face. Her mind was magically clear. He'd just proved every warning she'd been giving herself. "God! I was opening up to you and it's the only time I've ever let myself relax and act like you're- like you're a person and not a monster - and you pounce on me!"

He sat up as she did, stood as she did. "You are so screwed up that you can't even tell when a man genuinely wants to-"

"You're not a man!" She shouted.

"Then why do you treat me like one half the time?" He shouted back, stepping close to her, toe to toe.

"Because half the time, you've tried to be one for me!" The admission shocked her and made them both back up a step, a confused, "what just happened" expression in their eyes. "Sometimes. Sometimes you've tried, and been great. Helping with Dawn. And Mom. Local bads. Even me, sometimes. But- but then when I'm vulnerable, you start back on this thing where you're trying to get at me and-" Buffy shook her head slowly, "and I guess that gives me the final tie breaker tonight. Even when I'm really down and out, and the guy who I'm letting in is the only one around- I'm still not safe. I'm still fighting to get people to stop pushing me. Always fighting. Never stops." She blinked. "What was I just saying about us never beating each other? Guess I was wrong. My life. Worst life. Ever."

His boot crashed down a centimeter from her fingers as they reached for the glass, halting her effectively, making her yank her hand back, as his eyes narrowed.

"No. You want to talk tie-breakers, Slayer? Listen to this." His eyes were blue gas flames of anger and pain, and he was pleased to see her look a little anxious. She should. Only so far you can push a bloke before he tells you the ugly truth and offends your pretty little ears.

"I don't have to listen to-"

"Yes. You do." His fingers lunged and tightened on her wrist, holding her still.

"Stop!"

"I'm in _love_! I'm in love with a woman who won't let me touch her. Who hates me. Who won't let me get close to her unless she's in so much pain that she can really see- that I'm not such a bad guy, when it's for her."

Buffy stopped trying to pull away, his words sounding so pained, so raw, so ripped from him that she had to listen.

"D'you know what that's like? Only getting the chance to be close to you when you're fightin' me or in this much pain? Don't you know you're killin' me the slow way?" His voice shook with the urgency and desperation of a man who's been saying the same thing over and over and never been heard.

Buffy looked startled, went to protest. But his eyes stopped her. Tear-filled? For her? Or crocodile tears? _Or tears because he's a selfish jerk who can't stand the fact that he won't get his third slayer, and maybe this is the only way he can? He said all it took to get one of us was one good day. I'm guessing Spike wants his good day right about now. I mean, look at the crappy life he's had. So he'll get himself a slayer. Any way he can._

"Well, that's fair, isn't it?" Buffy took herself out of her contemplation and back to the battlefield. "Don't you try to kill me?"

He closed his eyes with the unfortunate side effect of squeezing out a single tear. "_Did._ Yes. I did. An' let's add that on, shall we? Add that on to how hopeless this is, how much it's guttin' me!" He stepped back this time, afraid he'd reach out and shake her or give in to his ever present desire and try to kiss her. He'd get staked. Well, why not? It'd be over quicker, this miserable excuse for life. _Then you wouldn't get the chance to see her. She might hate you, but seein' the one you love, even away from you, that's a bitter pain, but still has enough reward to make you want to stay around._ "That I'm as bad as bad can be an' I'm tryin' to be good for the best reason in the world. For love. Let's add on how impossible it is for you to believe me, let's add on how much bad I'm fightin' against."

Buffy stopped the rant, putting her cupped hands over her ears and turning from him, turning from the mad litany of reasons, all of them ringing true, in a sick, sad way. "Oh, will you stop? Just stop, you don't even know what it's like to love anymore! Your idea of love is to chain it up and threaten it!"

"Then teach me again!" He moved in front of her, bending at the knees to meet her eyes as she moved away from him. "Teach me how you want to be loved, an' I'll do it!"

She looked startled, but only for a second before the shields went back up. _Someone who would love me- the way I want to be loved? I wouldn't have to be something else for him? He wouldn't try to force me to do it his way? No. Don't hope. Not with him. Not with anyone._

The hard eyes. Spike's common sense made a plea for self-preservation. _Why keep torturing yourself, why keep pushing? Because it's what you do when you're in love. _"Look, Buffy,let's say you're right, maybe I forgot- but you_ know_ I can do it."

"I don't know anything about you."

It was a stupid lie to get caught in, she knew it as soon as she said it.

He knew it too. "You know _everything _about me." He gasped out, finally getting his hands onto her elbows and prying her hands from her unwilling ears. _Told you all that's worth telling tonight, in an hour an' half a bottle of Jack._

"I know!" She spat. _But I lie. I lie to myself and to him and to everyone. I can't make any more mistakes, and I _so _cannot try anything that looks stupid right now. Mom was counting on me. Dawn's counting on me. The freaking world is counting on me. Great. That's always worked out _real _well._

"You know? Then how can you-"

Buffy couldn't let him finish. She didn't have an answer, so she needed to throw out her own challenge. "How can _you _ask me to believe you after you-"

_Oh no, Slayer, don't even start, I'll cut you back quick as you cut me. _"Because you know me an' I know you. Neither of us want to. Both of us wish we'd never laid eyes on each other, don't we?"

"There is not enough yes in the universe to answer that question." She said bitterly.

Part of him had hoped she'd deny it. That part lost. Again. His smile quirked up, bitter as her voice, empty as her bereft heart. "See, Slayer? You know me, but you wish you didn't. Now you really know what it cost for me to pick you over Dru. You know I did it wrong, but I offered you the chance to wipe out my old true love, one I loved most. I was tryin' to prove there's only one place of honor in this heart, that I only want you. It backfired. But it means you know how bad this heart keeps breaking, and you know- that I never had a chance in hell."

Smile turned brave, still bitter, but a wisp of that old tough guy, villainous rebel was in there. "So I win. I'm gonna lose the only battle I really give a damn about. I don't have anything else left, so... that's the end of my long, sad tale. You're all I think about. I can't even get you out of my head when I'm _unconscious_. I _dream_ of you. Okay, Slayer? My unlife. Worst unlife. Ever."

"Spike." She swallowed painfully. She could tell him. She could open up. If she was stupid. Or if she was truly brave. There's such a fine line...

He waited, but nothing more was said. _Oh well._ He snatched the glass from the floor and held up in salute to the nefarious cupid who must've cursed him, something so evil, to fall for someone so noble, and to the gods with their sick sense of humor who had mixed so many vices in with two good traits that would surely keep him miserable- determination and the ability to love. What an asinine cocktail. Whiskey was better.

"Love's bitch to the bitter end- without the end part. Here's to the Prince of Fools, eh, Slayer?"

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, lifting the glass as he brought his lips to his winnings- and ran straight into soft fingertips. His eyes flew open and met serious, unblinking green.

"Me, too."

"Get your own glass, then." His chivalry only extended so far in the face of pain. Or her, the self-righteous, doubting, heart-crushing bitch.

"No. Me, too. Dreams. You, me. Yeah. I dream." She confessed, not looking at him directly as his eyes seemed to widen and swallow her.

While she shied away, all he could do was stare more and more intensely, shock consuming him, closely followed by absolute disbelief and confusion. "_What _?"

She talked to the floor, plowing herself into the ground now with this admission, every bad thought, every betrayal of herself, what and who she ought to be. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, Spike. See how wrong it sounds? It's because it_ is_ wrong. It's _sick_. But does that stop me? Oh no. No, instead I have dreams where you and I are together, talking, fighting. Hell, even doing the wild thing, all hot and pokey and prickly, and it's good." Her lips curled in distaste. Distaste for herself and her uncontrollable night visits. There hadn't been many, and they'd only happened since the night Spike took her to catch Riley in the act of his unfaithfulness. Maybe she figured out how much he cared, how much he risked that night. Or maybe she just wanted to be as big a vamp slut as Riley had become.

If only it were simply hot sweaty stuff, that would've been humiliating enough. No. The cosmos was never that kind to her. "I have dreams where you say you love me and oh- guess what- I like it! In my dreams, I mean. Out here in reality world which is often confused with nightmare world in my life, it's just making whole new leaps into the realms of badness." She waited for a retort, a snide comment, a crow of victory, about how he was right and she was wrong.

"Why is it such a terrible tragedy, Buffy?" His voice was soft and low, the epitome of caution.

Oh no. Using her real name. Bantering was done, fighting was halted. The secret, unspoken truce signal. Her own kryptonite that only Spike had a stash of.

"Because I have dreams about someone I can never be with, never even love."

"You could." Spike argued.

"No. No, I can't because it's like the surest way to have everything hurt a million times more and make things a million times more complicated. That's with normal guys. _Good _guys. With you, I'd be in the trillions of billions of more complicated and hurtful." She shook her head ruefully and wrapped her arms around herself. "But I still have the you and me dreams sometimes. Not often, Spike, and not for long, so don't get all excited." She preempted any happy thoughts. "But I like them." Buffy's voice faded almost to inaudible range. She was telling a secret, one she'd kept from everyone, even herself.

He clung to her words, always did. He'd begged for a crumb, even the ghost of a chance that someday she might give him a fraction of what he'd give her. Here was the scrap he'd been asking for. "If you like them, doesn't that tell you something, Luv?"

"It tells me I've reached whole new levels of pathetic."

"I know I'm not what you want. There's the demon, an' there's the bad I've done, but-"

"You're not the pathetic part, Spike. No, sorry, you are," she pointed out and watched him glare briefly, "but that's on top of the real pathetic part, which is because the dreams are what I have left of my 'girl life'. You know, the part where a girl dreams she might meet someone and they'll ride off into the sunset and it'll all be happy endings and rainbows? She thinks she'll finish school and maybe be a ballerina or a teacher or a fireman- and her mom and dad will be there to watch her graduate and her little sister will be there with flowers? My parents are out of the picture, my sister's on the endangered species list, and I'm not going to _live_ until college graduation at this rate, let alone actually get a degree. The guy part? Forget about the guy part." As she'd been speaking she'd left his side, the nearness of him was unsettling, his eyes, his hands, always reaching out to her. No more people should reach for her. She hadn't saved any of the most important ones. Mom gone, Angel gone, Riley gone.

Spike watched her pace, working herself up more and more, guilty thoughts pouring out like spilled wine. He didn't try to interrupt her this time. He realized she was speaking to herself more than him.

She was facing away, staring down at the stone coffin in the corner with oddly fixed eyes, murmuring quietly. She knew he could still hear. He could hear her heartbeat, he could her this. "Thinking about you, even after everything you did, is the best feeling I'll ever have from a relationship again. it's not even a relationship, it's a nightmare with nice moments when I think that maybe there's a 'happy ending, sunset moment' for me. But then I wake up and I have to realize dreams don't come true. I'm not able to love and no one is able to love me."

"That's not true." His tone was flint, unarguable conviction in his words. She tossed him a sad smile over shoulder.

"You sure? I can never say it. I can't accept it if someone else says it. And the saddest part? I don't even want that happy ending most of the time. When I'm asleep I think it'll be okay, but when I'm awake I know it's too risky. It's pain and danger and hurt- and I know one day if I give into it, I'll slip up. When I slip? There won't even be anything worth saving left to save. Because I'm the Slayer, Spike. I'm going to be cold, and hard, and alone." She turned to face him completely now, sad smile gone, replaced be a look of resignation. "So, yeah. I have dreams about you and me. But that's all I'll ever have. Dreams."

Spike's initial shock at hearing he was the object of her dreams doubled. He rasped out the only clear thought he had in his head. "Why the hell would you tell me that?"

Buffy whispered her reply in a cold, urgent tone, each syllable heavier than the last, pounding out a painful truth she was trying to force both of them to accept. "Because I like to win. You tell me, Spike, you tell me if you know_ anything_ worse than never being able to love again, and not even knowing if you ever _want_ to be _loved_ or love someone else."

He didn't have to think, didn't want to argue. No. There was nothing worse than that, it was something he couldn't even conceive of. He was love's servant, its slave, its prisoner. Cut love off? Refuse to feel it? Stop craving it? It was an impossibility. Yet if there was one girl in all the world who could thrive on impossibilities, good ones or tragic ones, it was her. His response was reflexive.

Buffy barely managed to grip the bottle when he shoved it into her arms. He wrapped her hands tightly around it, pushed it to her chest and steadied it until she seemed to wake up and grasp it.

"You win." He said simply.

_Don't worry, dear readers, I won't leave it like this. This game is going into overtime. _

_To be concluded._


	4. Chapter 4

I Like to Win

By Sweetprincipale

_Set in season five, after Intervention. Joyce is gone, Glory's in town, and the Buffy Bot is in Willow's custody, Dawn's in capable hands at night while Buffy patrols. Imagine there's a weeknight where nothing major is happening- other than the usual horrors..._

_Author's note: My first ever attempt at writing T-rated fiction. Please be kind. _

_Author's Second note: It's all gonna be okay, folks. _

_Dedicated to Alexiarrose, Mike13z50, Dlillith21, NausicA, Illusera, teddybear-514, McPastey, cavemenftw, and Ginar369_

_Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine. _

Part IV

It took both of them several minutes to come back to the present, stop traveling inside their own heads. The solid weight in Buffy's arms seemed to ground her eventually. She blinked groggily.

"Oh. Hey. I won. Go me."

He smiled slightly. "That you did."

She stared at her prize. Much, much bigger than the little glasses of potent stuff, this was half a bottle. "I really can't take this. I- I don't want to." _I don't want the booze. I don't want the prize. I'm a fighter, but I think- now that it's said and I can't take it back- that I never wanted to win this one little battle of words._

Spike stood, listing to the side a bit as he adjusted his footing to accommodate for his injuries. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off a bit he could feel the pain again. Matched set. Body and heart. What was worse, knowing she might be open to his affection but would never give it a chance, or knowing there was no chance to get? Both were torturous, but one pain was fresher. "Ah no, Luv. You win the whole shebang." Spike gestured to the bottle she was holding awkwardly in front of her. "You won it fair an' square. What you said- there's nothin' worse. That's not just one drink's worth of sorrow, it's a bar full. But that's what I've got." He gently pushed it back to her chest, barely touching her, afraid of her reaction, of his own. "You win."

It wasn't just about the alcohol. It was about the game. The _life_. "But I don't want to. For once, I don't want to." She admitted in a choked voice.

He wanted to comfort her in the worst way. But unlike a lot of the blokes she'd been dealing with in her life, he listened. He heard all the grief in all she said, and made sense of what things she'd left out, as well. She was alone. She was scared. She could only see the bad in her life right now, and like a trained warrior, she was hardening herself more and more. She wanted to be loved and she wanted to be happy- and she was afraid of being both those things. Understandable to be scared, really, knowing all she'd lost and had stolen, afraid to love and feel joy when it seemed to bring harm eventually.

_But she was never afraid of a challenge. And I'm dead clever, if you'll pardon the pun_.

Buffy watched Spike's face change. First there was the soft, sympathetic look that both annoyed her and made her feel her heartstrings pull, even though she thought she'd cut them off or bound them up too tightly to ever be moved again. Then a faint trace of his smirk was there, modified to a lopsided grin, barely twitching the corners of his lips.

"Alright then." He reached for the bottle with one hand and and took it from her. He put it gently back on the ground, but not between them this time. He didn't want anything between them,and if he had to do it symbolically for now- well, he'd take what he could get. His remaining hand hovered over her empty ones. "How about this? You come back around for another game some time." He let his hand fall, just letting his fingers ghost over her skin, barely making contact. Like them. Only a dream touch.

Buffy stared at the fingers she could see on her skin, but honestly had trouble feeling. The perfect summation of her life. Trouble feeling.

"W-what kind of game?" She asked uncertainly. She didn't know what else to say. Spike's ever-present attitude of smart-ass wisdom was like catnip to the roving cat inside her, that primal hunting side always looking for something to chase. If he offered a challenge- she never walked away from it. Maybe because secretly she liked being challenged by someone who respected her as both an adversary and a- sort of friend. _ What am I doing? What's he going to get me into now?_

"It's a new game. An' no one's ever played it with you before."

Buffy considered pushing herself a little farther away. No matter what Spike said, she couldn't help equating it with innuendo. Didn't help when she'd seen first hand what he wanted her for. "You didn't by any chance play this with your little robo-bunny, did you?"

"_No_." He exhaled patiently, despite not needing to breathe. "I'm sorry about that, an' yeah, you made it clear you hate that I did it. Let's drop it back on the unlucky in love pile of woe, shall we? Knew I'd never have you. Tried to make something to dull the pain. You were never s'posed to find out about her, okay?"

"Not exactly okay. But not getting you staked." Buffy conceded.

His hand tightened slightly on hers. "You oughta know what it's like, Luv."

She scoffed as best she could given the fact that she wasn't really up to it after riding an emotional roller coaster without a break for weeks, months, maybe years. "Me? Why? I have never, ever built myself a mechanical playmate."

"Angelus." Spike locked his hand down on hers because he knew she'd get up in arms. She did. Head whipped up and her eyes all but flayed him.

"I _hated_ him." Her lips quivered with rage.

"I know that. But he looked like Angel, didn't he? Had some little part inside that you wanted to believe was still your version? You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't hurt him until it was the very last second of the eleventh hour."

Buffy swallowed the angry denial she had he said was true, and any denial she made would be nothing but a lie. "So?"

"I knew she was plastic, I knew she was copied, not the genuine article. I knew whenever she said she loved me that it was just a bloody program. But she looked like you. There was somethin' about her that was close enough to the real thing to keep me from puttin' her away. An', as you mentioned regardin' my lovely visit with the bitch goddess, my cheap imitation got me hurt. Lesson learned."

"Yeah. Well. At least she only hurt you. Angelus hurt everyone." She whispered, closing her eyes to block out a flood of memories.

"Sadistic bastard."

"Tell me about it."

"Rather not. Except to say he'd have given her high an' mightiness some competition."

They shared a shiver, and the rueful smile that came after it. "So tell me. About this new game that I've never played."

"You'll love it. It's called 'How Can I Make it Better?'." Spike explained. "Same rules, almost. One drink, two fierce competitors," their smiles broadened, "except whoever makes the other player happiest wins the shot."

Buffy blushed and pulled away a little. Spike and happy didn't go together. And Spike and "happy", as in the giving of, definitely didn't belong anywhere, not in dreams, not in real life. "I'm not very good at that game and I-"

Spike's grip caught her escaping fingers once more. "You don't have to be good at this one. You can let me be the champ. I know it'll about do you in." His eyes locked with hers. _Let someone try to save you, Luv. Let someone try before there's nothin' left to save. You can have the worst life ever, if that's how you wanna look at it. But let someone try to give you a few happy moments before it all ends._

"Try to make you happy? Spike, I would suck at that game." She chuckled nervously, eyes trying to dodge from his.

He didn't let them. "Then that means I'll just have to make _you_ the happier one. On every single round." Her eyes flickered back up to his, tiny grains of hope still left inside jaded prisons. "After all, Buffy, I like to win, too."

_Game Over._

_Thank you for playing. _


End file.
